


An Empty Yellow Stool

by KentuckyTheFried



Category: IDOLiSH7 (Video Game)
Genre: (primarily at the end), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Minor Character Death, pythag trio if you squint hard enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 04:58:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15405480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KentuckyTheFried/pseuds/KentuckyTheFried
Summary: Mitsuki was sure nothing could surprise him anymore. The group had been through so many twists and turns at that point that he thought he’d be ready for whatever fate had planned for him.But he sure as hell wasn’t ready for this.





	An Empty Yellow Stool

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! First fanfiction in years, so I'm sorry if I'm at all rusty :'3  
> I still hope you enjoy ~

Mornings in the dorms were typical, at this point. Iori and Sogo would usually be the first to wake up; Sogo had to make breakfast for everyone and Iori had to get ready for another day of school. He would wake Tamaki up, much to Tamaki’s annoyance, but that frown would be turned upside down once he ventured into the kitchen and grabbed his morning pudding. Yamato and Riku usually woke up next, and then Mitsuki. It would probably surprise most people to know that Nagi was the last to rise - the man needed his beauty sleep, after all. 

They’d all eat breakfast together and talk about their plans for the day before all parting ways, whether it was to school, interviews, or studios. It was a good routine, and one that Mitsuki appreciated, for the most part. There were just some days where he had to wake up before Sogo did; there were some mornings where he wouldn’t be in any mood to deal with the amount of spice he put into the pancakes. Why did pancakes even  _ need  _ spice?

This particular morning, Mitsuki couldn’t bother to get up before Sogo. He stumbled into the kitchen, still wiping his eyes tiredly. Everyone was gathered around the table, chatting excitedly. He noticed Nagi wasn’t there yet.  _ Still asleep, the beautiful bastard _ , he thought.

“Mornin’ Mitsu.” Yamato was the first to wave hello.

“Ah! Good morning Mitsuki!” Riku chirped, “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, I’d say so,” Mitsuki responded, hopping up onto the stool next to Yamato. It was colored orange - in fact, all the members had their own color coordinated stools at the table. It was infuriating. It was like the whole world was telling Mitsuki he could only wear orange from this point out, as if the universe would implode if he decided to wear a purple hoodie one day. Maybe he’d dye his hair just to spite whatever omnipotent force was controlling this color coordinated hell.

Sogo poked the food he was cooking up in his pan - mm, smelled like tamagoyaki! - before asking, “When I start making yours, Mitsuki, would you like me to add extra sugar?”

“Hell yes!!” That extra sweetness would give him all the extra energy he would need for the day. The manager had told him he’d be getting interviewed today, nothing too serious. Yamato and Nagi would be coming too. It seemed like he couldn’t go anywhere without them recently, but it didn’t bother Mitsuki at all. They were both great guys! Handsome guys, to boot!

And so Sogo made tamagoyaki for everyone, even making an identical one to Mitsuki’s for Nagi for when he woke up. They all continued to talk as Mitsuki inhaled the entire dish in minutes. It wasn’t as spicy as he thought it would be - either that, or he finally had some type of spice resistance, courtesy of Sogo’s cooking. At one point Sogo and Tamaki had a small argument about Tamaki’s hair. To be gentle, it looked like a rat’s nest, and Sogo had suggested that he get a haircut. Mitsuki had to silently side with Sogo on it, but in the end, Tamaki won out. There would be no touching Tamaki’s hair.

But as they started to get up and clean their dishes, Yamato commented something that made Mitsuki raise a curious eyebrow.

“Hey, Nagi’s not up yet.”

Sogo turned back from washing his dish in the sink and blinked once. “You’re right, he’s usually up by now.”

“Maybe Nagicchi’s not feeling well and decided to sleep in?” Tamaki said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“If that’s the case, it might be worth checking on him.” Iori suggested.

Yamato opened his mouth to respond, but Mitsuki beat him to the punch. “I’ll do it. Have a good day at school, Iori!”

Iori grinned and wished his older brother the same before he and Tamaki exited through the front door. Mitsuki knew he needed to get ready; the interview was in two hours and it was an hour drive just to get to the studio. But Nagi came first. He cleaned up and quickly made his way to Nagi’s door, knocking once. Twice. Three times.

“Naaagiiii! It’s time to wake up!!”

There was no response from inside. Rolling his eyes, Mitsuki concluded that he was still asleep, and promptly raised his voice. “NAAAGIIIII! We have that interview today, you need to get up!!”

Yet again, no response. There was a small pang in Mitsuki’s heart, a pang of worry. Something wasn’t right. Nagi surely would’ve heard him that time, right? 

He knew it was probably a huge breach of privacy, but Mitsuki wasn’t sure he had a choice. He warned Nagi, “I’m coming in,” before turning the knob and pushing open the door.

Nagi’s room was painted yellow - damn the color coordination - but the amount of MagiKona paraphernalia gave the room a delightful splash of pink and white. The furniture inside was organized like the other rooms: one dresser, an in-wall closet, a bookcase, and a bed with a nightstand next to it. Nagi’s bed was pressed to the near left corner of the room, and as Mitsuki expected, Nagi was in it. He was already awake and sitting cross-legged in front of his laptop, which lay on the bed in front of him. He was staring intently at the screen, not even acknowledging Mitsuki’s presence when he came in.

“You asshole! Why didn’t you say anything -” Mitsuki started, but then he noticed something about Nagi that made him stop in his tracks.

Nagi’s cheeks were wet.

He’d been  _ crying _ .

“Nagi?...” Mitsuki said quietly.

Nagi didn’t look up. He wiped his nose with his long pajama sleeve before whispering something Mitsuki couldn’t make out. Mitsuki decided to approach Nagi, see what was on that laptop.  _ If he’s sobbing about a god damn MagiKona episode, I’m leaving, _ Mitsuki told himself. But he had a feeling that it wouldn’t be that.

Mitsuki peered over at the laptop, pressing his chin gently into Nagi’s forearm. It was an article, a news article. And it wasn’t written in Japanese, which destroyed any chance of him reading it. 

But there were pictures attached, and part of the headline he could understand. In the image was a black and white photograph of a woman. There was no way she could be their age, and yet she looked youthful and happy. Her hair, light in color, was tied up in a loose bun behind her, and her eyes were slightly slanted. Underneath the photo was a small caption. A name.

_ Kerria Valhart Von North. _

Wasn’t that the fancy last name Nagi sometimes used? Come to think of it, Mitsuki could see a lot of similarities between the woman and Nagi. Was this possibly...his mother?

He smiled faintly to himself. Nagi always talked highly of her, said that someday he’d bring Mitsuki to Northmare to meet her. 

He looked at the other image attached to the article, and his smile immediately faded. Three cars. One with serious damage to its front end, broken windows, skid marks on the pavement below. 

He put together the pieces.

“...oh god, Nagi, I -”

“Mitsuki.”

As Mitsuki stood back up, Nagi finally turned towards him. His eyes were still wet with unborn tears, yet somehow he was able to conjure up a small smile.

“ _ It’s ok _ .” He whispered in English.

“No, it’s not okay, what the fuck happened?! Is she okay?!” Mitsuki yelled. He regretted doing so immediately afterwards, but damn it, he was pissed. 

“She’s in a better place. Now she can watch over me easier.”

“...”

Mitsuki wasn’t sure what he was feeling, but he sure as hell wasn’t happy. Why was Nagi trying to cover up his sadness? His mother was dead - as in, fucking dead. Mitsuki was probably getting more emotional over his loss than Nagi was, and that was bullshit. 

“Look, damn it, if...if you need to talk about it, if you need to go back home…” Mitsuki trailed off as Nagi’s smile wavered. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” He simply said, after a while. “You need me here. After all, you are as much my family as she was.”

“No, that’s bullshit, we shouldn’t be the ones keeping you here, you need to go see her, damn it!!” Mitsuki yelled at him, “She’s your mother! Fuck, I’ll buy the plane ticket to Northmare myself, you don’t need to stay here, you need to take care of yourself, take the time to grieve instead of pushing it aside!”

“Mitsuki -”

“ _ NO _ , Nagi! You dumbass, you can’t just take care of us all the time, you need to take care of yourself right now!! Your mother’s  _ dead _ , Nagi,  _ DEAD _ ! You’re not allowed to push away those feelings you have for our sake, I won’t watch another one of my friends - my FAMILY - push aside their pain only to end up hurting more!!”

Mitsuki was panting; he’d raised his voice more than he should’ve. But he was scared, very scared, of Nagi going down the same detrimental path that most the others had fallen down. He didn’t realize he was crying until his nose started running, and he pushed his nose with the back of his sleeve, wiping away the wetness coating his cheeks. Blinking, he looked back at Nagi.

Nagi’s smile had disappeared.

Mitsuki was sure nothing could surprise him anymore. The group had been through so many twists and turns at that point that he thought he’d be ready for whatever fate had planned for him. 

But he sure as hell wasn’t ready for this. 

Nagi, broken. 

The light in those beautiful blue eyes of his had faded to an uncomfortable grey. The tears started falling again, stronger, akin to the floods after a hurricane. His lips were parted, ever so slightly, to express the ounce of surprise he had in Mitsuki’s outburst.

Mitsuki didn’t want to wait for a response. He moved the laptop to the far end of the bed and sat down where it had been, right next to Nagi. He planned to reach over and hug him now that they were on somewhat even ground, but Nagi had the same idea. As soon as Mitsuki sat down, Nagi turned, wrapping Mitsuki in a tight embrace and placing his head into Mitsuki’s right shoulder. Almost as soon as he made contact with Mitsuki’s shoulder, loud sobs began to flood the room, the aftershock of the hurricane. Mitsuki began to gently run his hands through Nagi’s hair, letting him fall to pieces in his embrace. It felt silky and smooth between his fingers - bedhead was a foreign thing to the foreigner. He wasn’t sure if it was helping at first, but after a few minutes passed, Nagi’s sobs began to calm down. 

Mitsuki took it as a cue to let go, but when he began to slip backwards, Nagi’s grip tightened around him. Mitsuki could barely hear him whisper something in English.

“ _ Don’t leave _ .”

Mitsuki smiled.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

  
  


~

  
  


Yamato heard yelling. Mitsuki’s yelling, to be precise. He decided to investigate, but not before grabbing a beer from the fridge. If Mitsuki was yelling, something was wrong, and he didn’t want to be sober for the aftereffects.

He walked over to Nagi’s room, where he presumed Mitsuki and Nagi were, and poked his head inside the room. “Everything okay in here?”

Everything was not okay. 

Yamato’s eyes widened as he took in the scene of Nagi and Mitsuki hugging on Nagi’s bed. He could hear the blonde sobbing, and there was an open laptop on the edge of the bed. Mitsuki didn’t acknowledge his question, instead investing his time into caressing Nagi’s head.

Yamato wasn’t an idiot. He knew something was really wrong, judging by the sobs. He put the beer on the nearest dresser, next to a MagiKona figure, and carefully stepped towards his two other unit members. What the fuck was he supposed to do? There was some sort of moment going on, was he ruining it just by being here?!

No, Yamato wasn’t going to stand by and watch this happen. As he stopped at the edge of the bed, he wrapped his arms around both the younger boys in a sort of group hug. It was loose and terribly awkward in his position, and Yamato considered stepping away, but then he heard Mitsuki chuckle.

“That’s definitely helping, dumbass.”

The response even got a small response from Nagi, who lifted his head an inch above Mitsuki’s shoulder so they could both hear him. “The more, the merrier! Come down here, let me hug you too.”

Yamato sat down on the bed as Nagi untangled his arms from around Mitsuki’s hug, positioning himself to hug both of them. Now it was anything but awkward. Yamato could recall doing group hugs like this all the time with them, but never in this sort of mood. Regardless, he made sure to angle his shoulder appropriately for when Nagi decided to nuzzle into his for a change. 

He didn’t anticipate Nagi leaning backwards abruptly, ending the hug a little too early. His nose wrinkled up in annoyance.

“Yamato! You smell awful!”

“Fuck you too! I was gonna shower, but you and Mitsu mattered more.” Yamato admitted.

Nagi shook his head, now itching at his nose. “I’m okay! Now please, go shower!”

“I’ll stay here,” Mitsuki chimed in, “I’m with Nagi on this one, you smell like horse shit.”

“Do you even know what horse shit smells like?”

“I didn’t before today.”

Yamato rolled his eyes before standing up. “Okay, okay, I’m going. Want me to bring anything back for you guys?”

Mitsuki paused. “Tell the manager to cancel that interview, we’re all taking today off. And then, come back smelling like cherry blossoms.”

“I swear to God.”

Yamato left the room and closed the door behind him, smirking despite the severity of the situation. He didn’t even get the chance to ask what was wrong, but something told him that it would all turn out okay, in the end. That’s how it always was: there would be bumps in the road, sometimes boulders blocking their paths, but they always pushed through. Seemed oddly repetitive at this point, but who was he to question fate?

After all, fate seemed to understand that he loved the color green.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> 1/2/19 - thank you so much for the wonderful comments!! I’m really sorry I didn’t respond to any of them but know that they mean the world to me ;v;  
> I promise I’m working on more!! For now, here’s a shameless plug-in for my Twitter, @KentuckyTheFry - follow me there for art and fic updates!!


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